Miles to Go Before You Sleep
by BilliMonroe
Summary: They say that if you die in a dream you'll die in real life. But Bonnie doesn't know what's real anymore. Because all she ever feels is fear. Fear of meeting Klaus. Fear of giving into Jeremy. But mostly she fears for the hero in her dreams.  With Beremy
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Ok, so I wrote this before the last two episodes of The Vampire Diaries and Supernatural. It's a little spoilery, so if you haven't seen the last few episodes of those shows, then you might not want to read it. This story is really just a way to tell my readers that I am still here. I hope that you all enjoy this short little two-shot. Part two will be up tomorrow. Now, it's time to go work on _A Million to One _(another Bonnie/Dean fic). **Read and review.**

**Disclaimer:** I own none of these characters, but I love them to pieces.

MILES TO GO BEFORE YOU SLEEP

_"Monsters are real, and ghosts are real too. They live inside us, and sometimes, they win." _

_-Stephen King_

This time it was Elena who needed the sleepover. She needed a break from the influx of earth-shattering information and unfortunate events that included, but was not limited to, finding out that the love of her life was the sole reason behind so much of the Gilbert family bloodshed and killing the one person who was old enough to even stand a chance of saving her all in one night. Naturally, in hindsight, it was easy for one to say that her hasty decision to risk her own life just to take Elijah's was a hair-brained move, but really, to her it had seemed like a good idea. At the time, anyway. Now, if someone had asked her whether she had honestly had a good reason to think that killing the only being who could possibly help her face history's oldest vampire—if he kept his word, that is—was a good idea, she would probably answer, "No. Not so much." Especially when the next vampire original to enter town would more than likely not be willing to forge any deals on Elena's _behalf_. So yes, she definitely needed this sleepover, because if she were going to be expected to fight for her life, then she would definitely need a night, just one night, where she spent some time fighting for her sanity.

"So why don't you just ask Bonnie for a protection spell or something? It's not like she and Jeremy haven't been—" one slap to the knee and the baby vamp dropped the last bit of buttery popcorn with extra salt back into the oversized red bowl. While Elena and I were sticking to snacks that were slightly less likely to cause cardiac arrest, Caroline was making up for some seriously lost time by attacking all the foods that she'd avidly avoided before she unwillingly joined the ranks of the undead. And why shouldn't she? After all, she didn't need to worry about things like high blood pressure and saturated fat anymore. She was on the stake diet. "—working on a spell anyway. Shit Bonnie! Why the hell did you slap me?" Elena waited for an answer too, but I wasn't about to tell her that I had hit the baby vamp in order to keep her from blabbing about Jeremy and my more salacious extracurricular activities.

Instead, I averted my eyes and hit them with a lesser bombshell, "Um…that's going to be a bit of a problem. Luka's dad took my powers." Turns out, telling Elena that I tongued her brother would have been much easier to explain.

"What happened, B.?" Elena unwrapped a large white quilt from around her narrow shoulders and came to sit beside me on the tattered carpet by her bed, moving Grams' grimoire out of the way. Caroline sat on my other side while I explained how he had extinguished my candle lit evening, held me by the jaw, and robbed me of every inch of my lineage. I made sure to keep the younger Gilbert's name out of it, however, lest she develop a curiosity as why we were studying by candlelight in the first place. Elena circled me with her arms, momentarily forgetting that her double was running around, trying to kiss her boyfriend one minute and strutting naked in front of his brother the next. Caroline, on the other hand, grew more pissed by the second. Tonight's sleepover began with the purging of secrets: Caroline's. And from them we learned that before Tyler had indirectly gotten her captured, they were well on their way fulfilling a few salacious desires of their own. But as previously stated, the newborn wolf had discursively held her prisoner, physically and emotionally, then run away before she could return the favor. Add that to the fact that her having to lie about her secretive relationship with a guy that she now referred to as "The Traitor" more than likely ruined any chances of rekindling her relationship with Matt, and well, let's just say that the only thing keeping her from going on a feeding spree was the two girls in front of her. A fact which didn't exactly endear her to us. Elena and I made an unspoken vow to thank him for the foul mood that he had put her in if he ever came back, but for now, her willingness to kill the first thing that threatened to rip our friendship apart was flattering, albeit highly unnecessary.

"I swear, the next time I see that thieving whore-lock or his lying son, I'm going to go all Regina George on his sorry ass!" She cursed, referring to my problem with Jonas and Luka. The credits to _Mean Girls _droned on in the background, providing the perfect soundtrack to a not-so-perfect situation. "I mean, he can't just go around stripping people of their powers just because he doesn't like the way they use them. Who the hell does he think he is? Harry-freaking-Potter?" I refrained from notifying her that Harry Potter was a wizard. She would just have accused me of contributing to the Who-the-Hell-Cares portion of the conversation. Her words, not mine.

"So that's that then. We're pretty much all screwed." Elena didn't usually enroll in the school of pessimism but at this point, none of us were holding out much hope of living through this ordeal. And if we did find a way to kill Klaus, there was still the tiny issue with Katherine, who would then have no further reason to protect her doppelganger.

Before either of us could confirm or deny the sulky brunette's claim, her bedroom door opened, greeting us with a smell that I had become all too familiar with in the past two months. It was the smell of body soap, laundry detergent, and distraction. Jeremy stuck his head inside the room and held a telephone receiver out to me. "Bonnie, someone wants to talk to you," he smiled. Elena, seeing nothing out of the ordinary, thumbed through the grimoire noncommittally. Caroline, however, bit her lip and covered her mouth in an attempt to keep whatever she was thinking from spewing out of her mouth like the volcano that she was.

"I'll be back, you guys," I left them in their previous states, steeling myself for whatever disastrous news awaited me on the other line of the phone, because, truthfully, that was the only news that I knew how to expect anymore. Luckily for me, it was also the only news that any of us were receiving. Only, instead of handing me the phone and leaning against the wall like Jeremy was prone to doing whenever he thought that I was putting myself in danger, he simply grabbed my hand and led me down the hall to his bedroom.

Once inside, the scent of him hit me in full force, assaulting my senses with visions of all that had happened here in the sixteen years that I had known him. Different stages of his life surrounded me, from the four year old kid who used to run around the house wearing fake WWE wrestling belts, threatening to power drive me and Elena over the staircase if we didn't "smell what The Rock was cooking," to the fourteen year old who wasn't interested in smelling anything other than Vickie Donovan's smoke scented breath from where she lay sleeping, lips slightly parted, next to him on his sex stained sheets. When my eyes finally met his again in the dimly lit room, I tried to find them, find any traces of the kid that used to live inside those deep brown irises, but for the life of me, all I could see was the man that he'd prematurely grown up to be. One that could definitely have given even Damon a run for his money in the charm department.

"I thought you said that someone wanted to talk to me," our proximity was making me nervous the way it did every time we were together now. Like my body craved something that my mind knew was wrong. And not just wrong because his unsuspecting sibling was sitting in the next room. No, it was wrong because daylight had melted into darkness hours ago, and with night came the dreams that never ceased. Dreams ofthe stranger that held me prisoner.

"I did," his fingers snaked around my waist, confidently pulling me closer to him, "but now I'm starting to think that talking's a little overrated. Don't you think?" _Don't you think?_ My mind had the question on instant replay. _Don't you think?_ To answer his question, I really didn't know what to think, because it was all starting to make sense: Caroline's relentless giggles before I left the room, the silent receiver laying forgotten on the fresh cotton sheets. It all added up to a sickening realization that the only call I'd received tonight was from a temptation that threatened to betray the disarming nightmare that haunted me in my sleep, and I was dangerously close to giving in.

Dangerously…

Close…

To…

Letting…

…My lips crashed into his. Despite having carefully planned for this, Jeremy clearly didn't expect for it to happen, and I couldn't exactly blame him. After our first and only kiss, my reaction to him hadn't exactly been inviting. Naturally, he'd respected my space, told me to take all the time I needed in telling Elena about us. That he would wait as long as I liked, and I had let him believe that getting her blessing was my only problem, knowing full well that he didn't deserve the cold showers that accompanied—at least they did for me—memories of a kiss that could have stopped time itself. He deserved the real thing. And I needed to let him know that I wanted that too. If only my dreams would let me.

He pulled back, giving me one of his infamous looks that held a hint of innocence lost and made the mistake of licking his lips. That's when I just said, "Screw it. He's hot, he's real, and those damn dreams will not take him away from me. Not anymore." So yes, I pulled him back into me. He hesitated a little at first, surprising both himself and me with reservations he never knew he had, but then, he took control of the situation. His fingers brushed the exposed skin on my waist in circular motions, making it impossible for me to resist the urge to run my fingers through that silky black hair of his. The feel of his hair between my fingers seemed to fuel something between us that took away all of our inhibitions. It was like we were possessed. Two demons in need of punishment that was sure to be doled out to me the moment I closed my eyes. But in reality, it was more like he had practiced this before. Not just the kiss, but the whole scenario. And that thought irked me a bit, though I did not know why. _Get a grip Bonnie, you've had your share of Vicki Donovans as well, and at least his aren't making nightly promises to finish what your cold showers can't._ I reluctantly removed my hands from his scalp in order to push him off of me at the same time that he rolled his tongue around my own. He had me, and he knew it! Though, in his defense, it could have been my ragged breathing that gave me away. His hands knew me well, and he played into my curves with the command of a prodigy. I gasped into his touch, making him smirk a little onto my lips in an uncharacteristically cocky way that thickened the haze in my brain. And we were gone.

We fell into a rhythm where tongues overlapped the other, massaged and stroked the backs our throats until making out just wasn't enough anymore. Until my back brushed against his cotton sheets with no sign of us slowing down. He ended up on top of me, my legs clinging helplessly around his waist. By now, he had advanced to gently trailing my jaw line and neck with kisses, sucking and biting in a way that no sixteen year old boy should know, until tiny orbs moved in front of my eyes, blurring my vision with nothing but visions of him. He whispered something into the crook of my neck that sent violent, involuntary shivers down my spine. Or at least I thought that it was his words that had elicited my tremors, until seconds later when I felt my phone vibrate in the pocket of my jeans.

"Are you going to get that? Or do you want me to?" He laughed breathlessly, lowering himself into a sitting position on the floor. I clumsily opened the phone and immediately blushed at the crudely worded text: **Keep it down in there. Any louder and **_**I'm **_**going to finish with you guys.** **Love Caroline.** "Sorry, Caroline," Jeremy whispered under his breath, knowing that the vampire could hear him. A moment later, she texted back: **It's quite alright Jer-Bear. I just didn't know you had it in you. Or in Bonnie technically. Ha ha.**

"I'd better get back to the girls," I whispered, realizing that for the first time since we'd started whatever this was, that I didn't want to leave his side. Because I had finally conquered my fear by giving in to him. And if I hadn't learned anything else from Grams, she'd made sure that I understood the power of concurring reoccurring dreams. Even when I'd awaken sweat-drenched and clinging to a nightmare that I was certain could never come true, Grams had always been there to remind me of their validity.

"Never sell your visions short, child. Everything in this world has a purpose, and you and I both know that purposes never go away unsatisfied." While the advice wasn't ideal for calming a hysterical six year old, her words reverberated in my head now. _Purposes never go away unsatisfied._ Clearly, the aim of my most recent nightly visions, no matter how urgent and real that they had felt, had been to get me over my reluctance where Jeremy was concerned. And I had. Game over. Bonnie/Jeremy: 1. Man in my dreams: 0

"I'm glad we had this little…talk," he walked me over to his door and kissed me lightly on the lips. The look on his face broke my heart, and reminded me of all the other times I'd walked away from his advances. But this time would be different. This time, I wouldn't be breaking away from him, I would be breaking down the only barrier that stood in our way now that I didn't have to worry about the dreams. The sibling barrier.

"We're good together, you know."

"Don't tell me," he pinned me softly against the slightly opened door, "tell my sister." The words "good night" lay on his lips, waiting for me to meet them, and I did, with enthusiasm that only freedom can bring. There was a very good chance that morning would announce both Klaus's arrival and the end of life as any of us knew it, but until then, I would rest happily, knowing that if only for one moment, things were truly perfect.

Unfortunately, the moment for perfection ended the minute I stepped back into Elena's room and found my two best friends fast asleep. Sudden warmth wedged itself beneath my skin, tingling with the edges of a familiar sensation that offered no signs of relief. Before my eyes, those not-so-distant feelings started to mold themselves into the shape of a small room that held blackness as though it never wanted to let go. There was only one person inside of this room, and though it was too dark to make out his features, I could feel him all the same. Feel his breath on my neck as he whispered for me in deep, scratchy tones. My body struggled to fight the terror that bubbled up inside of me at the mention of my name on his lips, but his pull was far too strong for me to resist the memory of his strong, capable hands digging into my waist. Dragging me back to him. It was at that very second that fatigue washed over me, and I knew it wasn't over. That I hadn't beaten him, I'd just found a way to silence him. I wanted desperately to run back into Jeremy's room and cling to his ability to awaken all of my synapsis. Only, I couldn't move. My face hit the pillow, causing paralysis to sink over my body as I reluctantly fell asleep to the sound of a hero making promises that even he didn't believe to a brother he'd given his life to protect …


	2. His Heroine

**A/N:** Wow, I didn't expect to get many reviews for this story. It was really just something that I wrote quickly to get over my writers block provided by _A Million to One_. But I want to thank **Eddieizzie**, **ButterflyCry**, and **babyshan211** (whose review made me consider extending this story in the near future). However, for now, this story is just a three parter (I couldn't fit this into only two posts. It just wasn't possible). So this is part 2 of 3 chapters that could turn out to be a prologue for a longer story called _His Heroine_. By the way, the first chapter is unofficially titled "Holding Out for a Hero."

**Disclaimer: **Yeah, like I honestly own anything. As always, **Read and Review!** Now, let's get on with it, shall we?

**HIS HEROINE**

_He was mystery in its most enigmatic form with an aura as murky and green as the light in his eyes, but the one thing that could be ascertained a mile away, was that this man was a hero: rugged exterior, gravelly voice, and all. His white horse came in the form of a black 1967 Chevy Impala, and where a cape should have been, he wore a faded denim jacket upon his back. But make no mistake about it: he was every bit as courageous as the man of steel himself._

_We met during one of his hunts, back when he insisted upon calling himself Alec Hanniger, but I knew from the moment his black boots cast their shadows upon my welcome mat that asking him to come inside was welcoming more than just a friendly chat from a travelling newspaper columnist—lies rolled off his lips as easily as if they were made of thin air— It was agreeing to find a soul even more damaged than the one he'd set out for. I could see it in the way that he asked certain questions that he was more than he appeared to be. "So, uh, what can you tell me about vampire lore in this town?"_

_"What do you want to know?" The question was as simple as that. No, "How did you get my address?" or "What made you pick my door out of the many on this street to knock upon?" necessary, because this was just a dream. I knew that much even in my sleep. _

"_Have you ever seen one? Because something tells me that all these animal attacks aren't just made up bullshit told by thirteen year old girls at summer camp."_

_"Do you really believe in that sort of thing? Or are you just looking for something to write in your column?" _

_He choked on his last piece of vanilla ice cream-topped peach cobbler and grimaced as if the question had brought back bad memories that I instantly wished I could take away. "Trust me, sister. What I'm looking for ain't nothing to write home about." Silence swelled around us in the small kitchen, bringing about a tension that threatened to suffocate the both of us. What was worse was that he looked as if he were used to drowning._

_"You look like you could use another piece of pie," I mumbled to myself while grabbing his empty plate. All it took was one grin. One grin that hadn't crossed his face in what seemed like months, and I knew that Elena wasn't the only one who'd be fighting for a life._

The next dream I had about him was meant for Klaus. I remember the day as if it were yesterday: street lamps spilled yellow light onto the nighttime blue, rain-soaked pavement that lined Grams's street. Inside the house, I sat underneath her tattered pink and white—now browning along the edges due to age—afghan and rocked her fluffy brown chair back and forth. The house remained in the exact shape that she had left it, and I could smell her in the old furniture, like White Diamonds perfume mixed with something earthy. The smell cleared my head enough to think. _Why can't we get a lead on Elijah? _My mind mulled over the question that I had tried to answer just hours ago with the Gilbert/Salvatore clan. _Why can't I see him for what he really is? _A cup of chamomile and Vervain tea chilled from lack of consumption in a white porcelain cup beside me on the night stand. The woman on the cup stared back at me from underneath red, cat-eyed bifocals, breasts sagging as if they were just as defeated as the look on her face, a look that was emphasized by words above her wild, blue-grey hair that read: "What can you do about it?" My sentiments exactly! _You can start by wiping that pitiful look off of your face and use the skills I taught you._ Gram's voice was practically in my ear, urging me to cast away the negative vibes that were blocking both my sense of perception and sleep. Swallowing the tea, I felt my bitter self-pity wash away, and when I closed my eyes, I could feel Klaus close by, beckoning the presence of two men with his evil brown eyes.

_At first glance, the vacant warehouse looked innocent. No one would have suspected the place to be a prison for the undead, complete with vampire-friendly lighting and a large wooden cell stacked in the middle of an empty room. The man sitting within the cell, scraped at his metal constraints with long, angry nails. Constraints wired to electrocute him at the pull of a hasty arm. He seemed perfectly comfortable this way. He seemed to enjoy confinement as much as he enjoyed the looks on his visitors' faces._

_"Come on out, boys." His voice was rich and deep, commanding attention without even having to raise itself in decibels. A tall man with shoulder length brown hair strolled confidently up to the cage followed by the wooden steps of a slightly shorter man that had once taken up so much space on my doorstep. The three tiptoed around each other, talking of missing souls, empty shells, and vampires creation. He made it known that just as the more jaded of the two had once been his child, he too was born from another. "Everyone has their mother, Dean," Klaus, spoke clearly before taking another sniff of the air. My hand nervously shot out over my heart, sending a pile of wooden planks crashing around my feet. Instantly, his eyes broke into familiar red veins that told of hunger and as he tore away from his prison, I knew that it was my blood that he craved. The larger of the two men went after the vampire, chasing him in the other direction. Dean stayed behind, grabbed a sharp wooden splint that had broken off the cage in Klaus's hasty departure, cradled it in his hand, and jogged in my direction._

_"You working for him?" All I could do was stammer and stare, because in reality I had never dealt with anything like him. Vampires, witches, and werewolves, I could understand. They were tangible. They were things that I could wrap my head around and prepare for. But the man in front of me was different. From what I could feel on his cobbler plate, he was alive, a close friend of death, but as alive as ever he could be. Yet, the way he held the self-made stake in his experienced hands as if he had built his life around turning nightmares into the urban legends that most believed them to be was something short of amazing. Dare I say irresistible? _

_"No, but…but I think that we were sent to each other to fight Klaus."_

_He squinted at me through suspicious eyes, "You one of those New-Agey chicks, or something?"_

_My eyes fell upon the stake in his hands, not wanting his vampire slaying to turn into an impromptu witch hunt, "Or something." The edges of this scene curled around my vision, signifying the breaking of dawn and the end of yet another dream. "So I take it you're not really a folklore columnist, are you?" He pinched the bridge of his nose._

_"Yeah, and I'm taking it your grandmother's name didn't just end up on my dad's contact list because he'd helped the old broad out once." _

I didn't dream about him for another month, but the next time I did, we were both knee deep in disaster and looking for solace.

_"Back for more vampire stories?" Those black boots shifted their weight from foot to foot as if they were weighing their owner's options._

_"I can't believe I'm actually about to do this, but…" the words died on his tongue, but I could feel them there, lying right on the surface of his skin where they'd melted: "I need you to do your little witchy mojo thing and get my brother's soul back." That's what he wanted to say, what he would have said, had the thought of working with the supernatural, instead of against it, not clawed him up inside. And it would have been so much easier for the both of us if I had never answered my door. Let some other witch be the source of both his salvation and his scorn, just as he was for the woman he had unintentionally wronged. Lisa. Her name filled every inch of his mind. Lay right next to the knot in his stomach tied by a brother who walked amongst the living but was imprisoned inside the damned. But if there was one thing that I had learned from being a witch was that where there was power, there was an obligation to protect the haunted. Even if doing so began to haunt you as well. "Ah, shit, kid," he finished, "Why are you even home? Shouldn't you be out watching some lame ass vampire movie or whatever you and your friends do in this dead ass town?" _

_Something about his tone scraped away at my remorse over his situation, and I tried to tell myself that it had nothing to do with his use of the word "kid." Why did it bother me so much that some stranger deemed me just another immature teenager planted so thickly in the roots of popular culture that she could be easily swayed with overly emotional vampire-wannabes with an appetite for spineless brunettes just because he deemed himself authoritative enough to tell her that that's what she should be into? After all, I could feel my heart strings being tugged away by someone in my waking life. But as my lips parted, I knew that I couldn't let the remark die between an ear-splitting door slam. Because I, unlike some vampire movie victim, was not one of those spineless brunettes._

_"And miss out on the crowd of cocky assholes just waiting to line up and pretend not to need my help?" He didn't seem to see this remark coming, but thankfully, unlike Damon, he didn't revel in hearing himself being referred to this way. Instead, he leveled his foot upon the threshold and crossed his arms. "Not a chance!"_

_"I'm just trying to keep you from ruining your damn life, so don't be such a smartass okay?"_

_Now it was my turn to be surprised. Ever since this mess with Katherine started, my role in Mystic Falls became that of Elena's protector. Wasn't that everyone's job now? To watch Elena and make sure that she still had breath in her lungs? That she wasn't in danger, or hungry, or even bored for long periods of time? And I loved her as if she were the sister that I had never been blessed with, but I wanted my life to count for something more than just protecting hers. I wanted to experiment with mixing beer and vodka instead of experimenting with the combination of ginger root and candle light. That's what this man was offering. A chance for me to be eighteen._

"_Only if you let me find your brother." Seeing him stare at me with those brilliant green eyes that looked lighter underneath my porch light than they had in the dingy lighting of my kitchen a month ago, I knew that I didn't want to be a normal eighteen year old. I wanted to feel powerful. I wanted to be the heroine of the story for a change. And for some strange reason that even I couldn't understand, I wanted to be his heroine._


	3. Promises to Keep

**A/N: **Thank you all for reading this fic. This chapter concludes this story, but as I said last update, it could possibly lead to a larger story. **babyshan211, **I hope that this clears up the confusion. Sorry about that, darlin'. I meant to tell you guys that everything in italics is a dream (except for the thoughts, of course, but you guys can all tell when they're thinking something, lol). Also, **SyLaR'sMEmoRyGuRL**, I hope that you enjoy the ending of the story. It's not a definite end, because I wanted to leave it open enough to possibly expand it in the future. Yet, it's not a cliff hanger either, because this is just her dream. I tied everything up as best I could. But if I'm going to add on, I'll need a bit of mystery. Now, given that this is a dreams sequence, strange thngs happen out of nowhere. That stems mostly from the fact that most of my dreams are strange beyond belief, and I often wake up wondering what the hell they were about. Seriously, I once had a dream about being chased by a dragon. I had just started college! So really, Bonnie's dreams are about symbolism and give her a gimpse into the future. Ok, enough explaining. On to work on _A Million to One._

**Disclaimer: **Certain storylines belong to Sera Gamble, Erik Kripke, Kevin Williamson, and anyone else involved in Supernatural/The Vampire Diaries. But I own the words. Ha ha. Now, let's get own with it, shall we?

**PROMISES TO KEEP**

_They say that some people just have a connection. A spiritual link that bonds them together for the most random reasons upon their first meeting. It's the theory behind love at first sight, soul mates, and best friends. Dean and I were none of the above and as far as either of us was concerned, we never would be. He didn't believe in making any more friends than he had to. Said they slowed him down, and that he didn't need the worry. Didn't need the hassle. But he said it all while thinking of the woman he'd left behind. I didn't buy into love at first sight, especially where he was concerned, because I knew what I looked like to him. Another great love from his past that he'd had to sacrifice for the sake of the fight. And even though I was starting to think that my attraction to him stemmed solely from a hidden affinity for bravery, it wasn't worth perusing. Even if his sly, insinuating smile at the mention of me being eighteen did send shivers up my spine. No, we were none of that. Not soul mates, not best friends, and definitely not lovers at first glance. We were two people reluctantly placed in a dream world together. Just two people living in a joined nightmare that needed someone to save them for a change. Which was why I couldn't fully tell him the lengths he'd have to go just to save his brother. Or that rescuing said brother's soul might even do more harm than good. But in the end, I couldn't leave him to hopelessly search without any clues either._

_"I see you walking with death. No, wait. Maybe you are death," We held hands around a candlelit pentagram drawn expertly from memory on Grams's solid oak floor while I described the vision I'd seen of him walking with a dark-haired woman in a hospital. This scene made about as much sense to him as it did to me. Zero. _

_"You sure you know what you're doing? The last psychic witch to try to this séance shit blew her eyes right out of her custard" He opened one eye, and focused it in my direction._

_"That's because she was trying to conjure up angels, I'm just—" he took his hands back, breaking our circle momentarily and scooted closer to me. I was caught. Whenever he wasn't haunting my dreams, I was keeping his memory alive in them by doing reflection spells that opened his past up to me. So far, I had managed to keep from him that I had scryed his entire life story, all thirty-one chapters of it, from the deaths of his mother and father, to the death and partial resurrection of his brother. The brother who's soul was burning to ash in Hell. The life he'd tried to keep a mystery from me hadn't been a secret since the night we'd talked in the warehouse. And now, my knowledge of him wasn't a secret either._

_But instead of getting mad and asking how I knew so much, like I'd expected, he chuckled softly and looked bitterly out the window, "I guess working with a kid witch is better than the demons he's got me working with."_

_"I may not look like much, but I can bring down any monster you throw at me with the blink of an eye, so stop complaining, give me your damn hands, and let me do my job. And don't call me a kid!" By the time I'd finished, I was out of breath and he was smirking at me, arms propped up on either side so that he could lean over the candles. Our faces lay inches away from each other like clichéd characters from the pages of a store bought romance novel. Like two teenagers playing Truth or Dare: him daring me to lean into him after admitting to such an embarrassing truth. Like he didn't belong to another, somehow; somewhere within the waking hours._

_"What should I call you then, Curly Sue?" I glared back just as defiantly._

_"Don't call. When you thank me, I want it to be in person."_

I didn't expect to see him again. After telling him to embrace what Death had to offer, I knew that getting his brother's soul back was well on its way to becoming a reality. Klaus was now a faint memory in his mind. He'd moved on to the elder vampire's maker, and with his real brother back at his side, it was likely that these nightly visits would also be a distant memory. A part of me wanted to be rid of him, the growing attraction, and the even bigger feeling of dread that his voice brought to my skin, because I knew that he was still in Klaus's line of fire. I knew that Klaus wanted Dean almost as much as he wanted Elena, and I couldn't stand to rain on his parade by telling him so. But who was I to deny that he kept away the loneliness? That I wasn't sleeping well because I feared what his presence did to me? And everyone around me could see the change. Gone was the girl who wore pain on her shoulder like a shield, threatening bodily harm to any vampire who tried to penetrate it, Caroline included. The murmurs of my status as a judgmental bitch grew softer by the week, and by the time Jeremy drove me home from the Lockwoods' masquerade party, they had evaporated into exclamations of "They're so cute," and "Why won't she just kiss him already?" But after that first kiss, Dean did come back, sucking me deeper into a beautiful nightmare that made me feel too guilty to even look at Jeremy.

_It was over between him and Lisa. She wanted him, but he didn't have the time or resources to give himself over to her full time. He never said the words out loud, of course. No, I felt it in the way that his hands brushed against mine as I reached for the half full bottle of whiskey that he drank. He was already too drunk to drive. There was no use in driving him to the point of liver poisoning. He watched me slide the bottle of bitterness over my lips and drink it straight with heavily glazed eyes that held a hint of admiration._

_"Not bad, Curly Sue. Wanna do body shots?"_

_"Wanna tell me why you're here?" I mocked. He took the bottle back, hands passing along silent words that he couldn't say: "Because it's easy with you. You don't ask questions. You don't get all pissy when I don't call or come by for a while," and substituted them with, "You wanted your damn 'thank you' in person; I'm giving you're your damn 'thank you' in person." I ask him if he really means it. If Mr. I Don't Need Anyone's Help is really capable of being sincere, and try to conjure my best poker face to hide my disappointment when he laughs the question off with that signature grin that was getting harder to resist. There was no smile on his face when I looked back up, though, because he isn't laughing. Instead, he looks right at me, eyes glittering sadly. He rubs them with the back of his arm, clears his throat, and fixes me with those eyes. In reality, it was usually Damon that girls fell all over just to get a glimpse of his eyes. Even worse, the cocky vampire knew it; played this town as if he held the patent for beautiful eyes, but those girls didn't realize what was missing in his cerulean gaze. Dean's eyes held that missing ingredient: honesty._

_"Yeah," I could barely hear his voice, it was so quiet. "But don't make a fed—"_

_"You're welcome," my reply was just as quiet as his. It could barely be heard over the tension humming between us as we shifted closer toward each other. This couldn't happen. Lisa still took up space in his mind, and if you ask me, it wasn't the fact that it was over between them that he regretted. It was the fact that he had hurt her while trying his best not to. Anything between us now would just be a consolation prize. Pity in the form of comfort, because burying himself in liquor and loose women was his ideal cure for these situations, and why should this one be any different? But if he was looking for that sort of thing here, he had come to the wrong place. I wouldn't be his alleviation from the pain. Not that way. I would turn away from him. I would..._

_"Listen,"_

_I would not give in…_

_"I didn't mean to bring all this shit to your doorstep," I could feel his breath on my neck as he whispered for me in deep, scratchy tones…_

And that's where the dream always cut off, but tonight, he wouldn't let the tension subside. It built up inside me, threatening to explode. Tonight, his fingertips brushed my waist and ripped from me any part of Jeremy that still lingered on my skin.

_"If you want me to back off, just say the word and I'll—"_

_"You'll what?" The scream tore itself from my lungs in frustration. "You'll go haunt some other witch's dreams? Make her think she's going crazy for ignoring the only good thing in her life at the moment, because she's got some school girl crush on a guy she's never met? A guy who may not even be real?" He stood up and paced the room._

_"You think I wanna be here? News flash, kid: I don't! I've got a kid brother lying two feet away from me in a shitty motel, probably dreaming up a way to blow the cap on his soul straight back to Hell, and instead of watching out for him, I'm dozing off to meet some chick that was more than likely created by the Trickster. Wherever the hell his is."_

_He wasn't making any sense now. "The Trickster?"_

"_Oh, don't give me that innocent bullshit! That evil dick's been on my ass since Sammy and I met up again. I wouldn't put it past him to have found another meat suit and slapped you in my dreams just to screw with me." He finished this rant by telling me how real I looked and asking me where I hid my puppet strings._

_That's when I first noticed it: the change in scenery. Wind picked up, blowing a treacherous rainstorm around Grams's house. Water swept through the room, surged around the floor in swells and waves that lapped at our skin, matted our clothes and hair, and pushed us farther away from each other. Grams's picture rocked dangerously on the edge of the fireplace's mantel, her eyes were filled with years of knowledge, mouth and eyebrow raised upward on the side in amusement. Like she knew something that I didn't, and while it wasn't funny, she could only chuckle at the fact that I still hadn't figured whatever it was out. "An experienced witch sees the value in getting help for the helpless," the chuckle seemed to be saying right before the frame crashed onto the pulpy floorboards._

"_Go grab some salt from the kitchen and line it up over all the entranc—" Before he could finish, a surge of wind backed him into a room down the hall, and slammed the door. _

"_Dean!" I rushed down the hall, but fell through a hole in the floor where the water had worn the wood away. "Dean! Help!"_

"_He can't save you now, witch! You should have believed in your dreams, like your sweet little old Grams told you." I slammed into the ground with enough force to knock the wind out of me. Klaus's voice surrounded me in the woods. "Now it's too late." He laughed maniacally at my plea for him to leave Elena alone. Made illusions to how pivotal her death will be in breaking the moon curse and freeing his "mother."_

"_Please! I'll do anything. Just leave her alone!" I could barely see my own hand inside the darkness of the thick trees. A dark hole sat beside me on the high grass with the promise of a great tomb that should never have been opened hiding somewhere far below. "Name your price, and it's yours! Just let Elena go."_

"_You've been consorting with the elder Winchester boy for far too long. But really witch, deals are beneath me." In the distance, water surged down a hill, headed straight toward me. "The woods are lovely, dark, and deep," his rich voice whispered amongst the water. It was at my feet now. Weighing me down. Stinging my eyes. Burning my throat and lungs. "But I've got promises to keep and miles to go before you sleep." Orbs swam in front of my eyes. This was it. It went without saying that I was going to die. They say that if you die in a dream, you'll die in real life. Well, I was about to find out if that was true. "Did you hear that, Bonnie?" His voice was faint to my drowning ears, "I'm closer than you think, and I've got miles to go before you sleep…"_

"_Dean!" my cry was hidden inside the flood, but somehow, he heard it anyway._

"_Fight it, Bonnie! Wake up, Bonnie! Wake up Bonnie!" His voice rose several octaves on the last command. In my time of dying, I could have sworn that it sounded just like…_

"Wake up! Bonnie, wake up!" Elena shook my shoulders. Reflexes in my throat, coughed and sputtered, frantically trying to expel water that wasn't really there.

"Is…is she going to be okay?" Jeremy's voice dripped with concern. _But how can that be, _I wondered. _Especially considering the fact that he had never made an appearance in my dreams before._ Caroline was there too, reaching out to turn on a lamp, illuminating a place that had been like a second home to me since before I could walk. I was back in Elena's assured her brother that everything was under control before dismissing him to the kitchen for water and a heating pad.

"God, Bon! Scare me half to death, why don't you?" Caroline was sitting up in bed with an eye mask propped on top of her head.

"You're already half dead," I joked hoarsely and without any real humor.

"Whatever," she lowered her body back to the sheets and held her head in one hand, "Oh and who's Dean?" My cheeks lit up at the sound of his name, but not for reasons that she thought she smelled.

"It was just a dream Care. Stop freaking her out." Elena went back to fluffing her pillow, missing the _Better not let Jeremy catch you dreaming of some other guy, even if he _is_ just a dream_ death glare she threw my way. Only that's where she was wrong. Because my dreams always came true. They were as real as the future itself. And so, I couldn't shake the feeling, was he.


End file.
